He is Love's youngest grandchild, her favorite of the twelve or so she had at last count. He has curly hair, and the angelic face and mischievous ways classic to the cherubim. When he was six, he would sit on her lap and listen to her tales of great love. Some were tragic, some happy, but most were somewhere in the grey areas. Unlike his siblings raised by television standards of romance, he learned from Love herself of the complexities and compromise that were at her very core. By the time he was sixteen, he watched his friends seek out his grandmother for condoms when they couldn't procure them elsewhere. Love merely smiled sadly, knowing young couples thus inflamed would not be deterred by a lack of protection, and handed out contraception in hopes that today's fancy would not turn into tomorrow's regret. She did wish, though, she confided to her grandson, that they wouldn't keep confusing her for Lust, who lived several blocks down and did not keep her yard nearly as nice.
Now he's older and has moved out on his own, but he still visits her with flowers and looks after her rabbits whenever he can. He tells her the latest of his lovelife, and she knows that in his curret girlfriend he has found his match, even if he has yet to conclude this himself. It doesn't take him long. Later, she will be the first person he calls with the excited news that "She said yes!". He never realizes he's inherited his grandmother's power to heal broken hearts -and coincidentally- will go though life loving and being loved without ever having experienced one for himself. Some would say this makes him lucky, but his grandmother would argue it's the bitter in life that makes the sweet stand out.
More time passes, and of all her descendants, he is still by far the most vibrantly alive with love. Where others of her line love fiercely at first like a short-lived blazing fire, burning themselves out with the sustained effort, he loves simply, strongly and steadily. He is never aware of the profound effect he has on those around him, and for that, Love cherishes him most of all.
When she dies, she leaves to him in her will her collection of old love letters, a journal from when she was but a young girl, and a locket with a faded photo inside, the identity lost to time. He makes sure that on her tomb, there is a simple heart engraved where her name should be. He knows she is not really there.
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